


We Could be Heroes

by ValBirch



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, But with super powers, Fluff, Multi, Slice of Life, Superhuman Au, and everything in between
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: A series of connected vignettes about our favourite characters—but with superpowers. Part Five: Mike and El sneak out for a late night date. Fluff ensues.





	1. Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So this fic will follow a loose sort of plot, but it'll mostly be a series of one-shots that explore different moments in the lives of the characters in a superhuman AU. The stories will move back and forth in time, but they'll be pretty easy to follow along and I'll date them as necessary. 
> 
> This is based on an series of AU moodboards I created on Tumblr (@maxmayfield / tagged strangerpowers) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. And please—let me know what you think. I really do love hearing your thoughts!

Mike walked backwards through the snow, dragging his boots across the empty parking lot, stopping under the bright glare of a lamp post to wait for El, following him through the darkness with a wide grin on her face.

These were the best times. Nights, when El was allowed out of the house, when the entire world was still and silent and theirs.

“Are you cold?” Mike asked as El, her step light, caught up to him, nestling against him for warmth. His breath fogged in the winter air and El shook her head. She looked up at him and in that moment, if Mike had been able to read minds, he would have known how El’s heart was fluttering, her thoughts racing.

She watched as the snowflakes, plump and delicate, swirled around Mike’s head, landing for the briefest of moments amidst his unruly hair before melting away forever. Their ephemerality was beautiful, tragic; so unlike Mike, who had so quickly become a constant in her life. It was a sight—and a thought—that took her breath away.

Before Mike there had been no snow. No sunshine either. But she had escaped from that life of sterile white walls and cold, hard stares and she had found a home with cozy blankets and the warmth of Mike’s dark eyes. She had run away from the time and the place in which she was Eleven. And she had, quickly and excitedly, grown into El.

It had been an accident, really. Running into Mike and his friend, Lucas, that night in the woods. They had bickered for a long while in the rain about what to do with her. And she, shivering with cold, had listened and hoped they’d save her.

* * *

_“Are you lost?” Mike asked, taking a tentative step forward. Lucas watched, eyes weary. Uncertain, Eleven shook her head, then nodded. It was a complicated question. She was lost in the sense that she did not know where she was, but she knew it was better than where she had come from and so could she be truly lost?  She had little time to contemplate a less confusing response before Mike stepped forward again, more boldly this time, and held out his hand._

_Eleven bit her lip, hesitant, before her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out and brushed against his. He was so warm. It was hardly possible in this deluge, yet she could feel heat radiating off his skin and fought the urge to move closer to him._

_“I’m Mike,” he smiled at her, eyes bright and soft and caring, “This is Lucas. You can come home with us.”_

_Home was, Eleven quickly learned, wonderful. A large house on the outskirts of Hawkins. A place where she had quickly learned that there were others like her—several others, all looked after by a gruff but lovable and incredibly strong man named Jim. Jim was—_

* * *

“El?” Mike’s voice drew her from her memories, her brow furrowing when she realized he was nodding at the space behind her. “We’ve got company.”

Without another word, Mike’s bare hand wrapped around her patterned mitten and he swiftly led her out of the light, the shadow of the now-closed diner consuming them.

A car, dark blue and a little reckless in its speed, screeched to a halt between two parking spots. Mike and El exchanged a quick glance and watched, eyes narrowed, as a middle-aged man stepped out of the driver’s side. A young boy, about their age, quietly and quickly got out from the passenger’s side, avoiding looking at the man.

“God damn! They’re closed. If you had read the damn map right we’d have been fine.” The older man’s voice was harsh, filling the parking lot with vitriol and anger. The boy did not reply, staring intently at the ground.

“And another thing,” the man continued, his words slurring slightly, “If you don’t like baseball, then I won’t bother to come get you next time. Won’t waste my time on you. You’re barely my son anyway.”

The boy, on the receiving end of these words, said nothing, his shoulders slumping. From her spot in the shadows, El got the distinct impression he was trying to make himself as small as possible. She was familiar with that feeling.

“Got anything to say, Will?” The boy’s father continued, walking around the car, clapping his son—Will—on the shoulder far harder than necessary, making him wince. “Huh? Be a man and say something.”

“Dad—” Will began, his voice so low it was barely audible.

“You don’t get to call me that,” the older man spat, “I didn’t father a fag.”

El’s heart sunk when she saw Will’s reaction, how his face crumpled under the weight of a word she didn’t know. She knew enough, however, to be aware that this man was bad. A thin tendril of smoke curling up and around her ears made El look over at Mike; his hands had balled into fists and begun to steam.

She wanted to calm him, but her eyes were drawn back to the duo several feet away, the older man now towering over his son in a way that El immediately recognized as threatening. Her face set, she stepped out of the darkness without a second thought.  She knew that if she didn’t step in, Mike would, and it would likely be far less pleasant for everyone involved, especially Mike. El had been using her powers her entire life and even though her nosebleeds were unpleasant, even though they made her feel tired, she hurt to see Mike’s blisters and burns fresh each time her used his powers.

“Enough,” El spoke firmly, approaching the pair, watching as their eyes fell upon her in her puffy pink jacket. She was well aware of how non-threatening she looked, which perhaps explained the fresh and amused ire on the man’s face and the warning look she received from Will.

“What’s that?” The man glared at her, his lip curling, “You say something girl?”

“She said enough,” Mike’s voice sounded from directly behind her and El felt reassured by the warm energy radiating from him. “Leave him alone.”

“Mind your own damn business,” the older man spat in their direction. He spun back to face Will, his hand quickly reaching out and wrapping around Will’s wrist with unconcealed violence, bruising force.

Everything happened quickly after that, in less than the blink of an eye. Will was suddenly gone, entirely vanished. Mike’s hands were alight with flickering orange and yellow flames. And the bad man was floating several feet off the ground.

“What the—” he struggled, squirming and finally, slowly, comprehending the situation he was in. “You’re freaks. Monsters! Just like him.”

El’s eyes narrowed and she lowered the man to just a foot over the ground. “You’re the monster,” she said quietly. “Go. Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, El watched as Mike formed a large ball of fire between his hands. It was unlikely he’d use it, but the sight had proved more than enough in the past. Unceremoniously, as roughly as she could, El dropped the bad man.

Cursing and muttering to himself, he scrambled into his car and took off, tires skidding in the snow and ice. Satisfied, El drew in a deep breath and wiped the familiar trickle of blood away from her upper lip, smearing her mitten. But that was the least of her concerns.

“Mike,” she sighed, turning to her boyfriend, “Your hands.” Frowning, she pulled off her mittens and took Mike’s now-extinguished palms in her own. There was fresh bruising and angry red marks across his knuckles.

“I’m okay, El,” Mike said lightly, pressing his forehead to hers, “I promise. We should find that other kid though.”

“Will,” El whispered.

Mike nodded, “Did you see how he just…disappeared?”

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes scanning the parking lot but not seeing a sign of any other human. Her lips pursed in concern and frustration—it was cold and dark and Will was alone. She could tell, by the way Mike’s brow was furrowed, that he was thinking the same thing.

“There!” Mike exclaimed triumphantly, pointing to a set of footprints in the snow, almost covered now, leading away to the back of the building. Mike and El followed them. The trail ended behind an old and rusted dumpster behind the restaurant, the soft sound of sobbing indicating that they had been successful in their search—not that they could see anyone.

“Hello?” Mike said softly, tucking his raw hands up into his sleeves, his eyes sweeping over the empty air in front of he and El. “Uh, are you…are you there?”

It took a moment, but the boy materialized in front of them, entire and whole, with puffy eyes, pale skin, and a worn winter jacket.

“Hey,” he whispered, sniffling gently, “I’m Will.”

“I’m Mike,” he smiled, moving to extend a hand but thinking twice about it. Instead he grinned and jerked his head to his left. “And this is El.”

Will waved meekly. “Thank you,” he breathed, “For that—it was pretty awesome. With the fire and the floating and—”

“You’re like us,” El observed, interrupting. Her eyes were fixated on Will with interest. She stepped forward and poked his cheek. “Invisible.”

“I can be,” Will nodded, “It makes things easier, you know? When I have to deal with my dad.”

“That sucks,” Mike muttered, but Will shook his head quickly.

“It’s not terrible,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He’s not really around anymore. I live with my mom and my brother and they’re like me—like us, I guess.” And then, just as suddenly as his smile had appeared, it fell off his face. Will groaned lightly. “We don’t live in Hawkins. I have no idea how I’m going to get home.”

“Jim’s going to pick us up soon,” El said immediately, relieved that Mike nodded with vigour—almost enthusiasm.

“I think he’d really want to meet you,” Mike smiled, “And you can call your mom from our place.”

They brought Will back under the glow of the streetlamp, Mike on one side and El on the other, their arms interlocked. And together, they waited in the winter darkness, each knowing that something had changed forever in their lives.  


	2. Fire and Ice

Teeth grit, Jim Hopper drew in a deep breath and pushed upwards, lifting the weights overhead with some effort, his arms aching in a familiar and welcome way. Two hundred reps completed. Jim set the weights back down and wiped at the sweat pooled over his brow. That would do for today.

“That was so badass, Chief!”

Jim looked over his shoulder to where Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson were sparring. Or, to where they were supposed to be sparring. Instead, Lucas was forming bright red balls of solid light and throwing them across the gym. Dustin, in the form of a shaggy brown dog, was chasing after them with fervour. Jim grinned. He supposed that was close enough to practicing their powers.

“Hey Sinclair,” Jim gestured towards the weights he’d been lifting, also bright red light constructs—they were easier and heavier than regular weights— “Let’s get rid of these.”

Lucas nodded and, as Dustin came skidding to a halt in front of him, shifting back into his human form, held out his hands and focused on the weights, smiling with achievement as the light moved back toward him, absorbing into his palms.

“Good stuff, kids,” Jim mussed Dustin’s hair and gave Lucas a quick but enthusiastic high-five. “Now go pack up. Your parents are going to be here to pick—”

Jim’s instructions were interrupted by the sudden and shrill screaming of the fire alarms—following almost immediately by a series of loud thuds echoing from the upper level of the house. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache coming on.

Noises like that meant one thing and one thing only. The Wheeler siblings were fighting. Again. He’d almost prefer it if the building  _were_  burning down.

* * *

“You ASSHOLE!” Nancy screeched, hands balled into fists, as Mike slipped past her, a smug smirk on his face. She followed him from her bedroom, absolutely set on not letting him escape this time. Angrily, Nancy whipped her left arm out in the direction Mike was fleeing, sending a surge of icicles flying at his back.

Mike glanced over his shoulder once, just in time. His eyes widening in surprise, Mike twisted around and quickly swiped upwards through the air with his right arm, watching as the icicles melted in a sudden rush of orange flames.

He paused only momentarily to plead his case before turning the corner towards the stairs. “Nance, I’ll pay you back I swear!”

Nancy, right behind him, was having none of it. “That’s what you said last time!” she hissed, planting her feet firmly on the ground and splaying her arms out in front of her. A satisfied smirk lit up her sharp features as a thick sheet of ice covered the stairs, making Mike lose his footing. He tumbled unceremoniously to the bottom of the stairs.

“Shit!” Mike gasped, scrambling back to his feet as Nancy walked over the ice gracefully, it disappearing into the air as she descended the stairs.

“Give it back,” Nancy insisted, holding out her hand for the stolen piggybank tucked into the pocket of Mike’s jacket. She watched with narrowed eyes for any sign her brother might bolt. And as soon as he made to leap forward, she was ready, a steady stream of ice leaving her palms and wrapping itself up Mike’s legs, snaking its way to his knees.

“Oh come on,” Mike groaned, his hands all at once licked with flames, the ice melting and pooling in the carpet. Bringing his palms together, he began to shape a ball of fire.

“Mike,” Nancy’s voice was drifting somewhere between a warning and sheer annoyance, “Don’t you dare.” She began to mirror Mike’s actions, a large ball of snow and ice forming in her palms, growing as she spread her hands apart.

It was impossible to say who would have thrown first, if either of them really would have, because Hopper chose that moment to appear at the end of the hallway, his exasperation evident.

“Wheelers!” When he called to them, Hopper’s voice was firm and frustrated. “That’s enough.”

Like two deer caught in the headlights of a very large truck, Nancy and Mike looked up, their hands immediately empty and extinguished.

“Sorry Chief,” Nancy mumbled, using the nickname all the kids had for him.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mike echoed, something sly tugging at his lips, “But she started it.”

“Mike you shit!” Nancy shouted, her hands immediately full of ice once more. Mike responded in kind, the length of both his arms consumed in flames. It would hurt later, but it was better than letting Nancy show him up.

Mike released a spurt of flames in his sister’s direction and she deflected with a chilled blast, the two streams meeting between them and hissing as they fizzled out under one another’s power.

Jim rolled his eyes. With a booming voice, he called out again so that the entire house seemed to shake on its foundations. “Harrington!”

Less than a blink of an eye later, a teen boy with permanently windswept hair appeared by his side, his atoms still vibrating to a stand-still. He looked from side to side, surveying the scene in the entryway before his face lit up with amusement.

“Got it, Chief,” Steve grinned. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around Nancy’s waist and, in a moment, was gone, a streak of energy heading back up the stairs.

Jim clapped a hand down on Mike’s shoulder, and glared at him. “For the love of god, Wheeler, stop taking your sister’s damn money.”

Mike smirked, looking up at Jim over his shoulder. “No promises, Chief.”

* * *

“Steve!” Nancy gasped as she fell backwards atop her pillows, knowing full well the human blur that had whisked her away to her bedroom was her boyfriend of almost a year.

Steve slowed, coming into sight by the doorway, a grin on his face. “Sorry,” he laughed sheepishly, “But you and Mike were gonna tear the place down.”

Nancy scrunched up her face at him, her cheeks red. “You’re an idiot, Steve,” she laughed. In response, Steve stuck out his tongue before moving over and setting himself down on the bed next to her.

“Only because you always distract me,” he replied, running his fingers gently along her knuckles, bringing them up to his lips to kiss where the skin was red and cracked.

“It hurts less when I’m angry,” Nancy whispered, leaning in to Steve’s warm touch. Steve frowned and touched her chin, tilting her head up so that he could look into the eyes he loved so much.

“Well,” he said lightly, “Remind me to never piss you off.” Gently, he pressed his lips to hers, their foreheads meeting. “Let’s go out tonight,” Steve suggested with a broad grin, “Where to? California? Arizona? Canada?”

Nancy rolled her eyes in response and pressed her lips back to Steve’s with intensity. “Shut up,” she muttered into the kiss. And Steve obliged.


	3. New Beginnings

When Jim pulled up in his old blue Chevy, he hadn’t expected to see three fifteen-year-olds sitting on the curb outside Benny’s Diner waiting for him in the blowing snow. Truck idling, he stepped out, his boots crunching in the unshoveled parking lot. El was already on her feet approaching him with those big doe eyes she made whenever she wanted something. They were the reason she’d been allowed to go out with Mike that evening, though by the looks of it they’d found trouble. He wasn’t surprised, but he was wary. **  
**

Lighting a cigarette, Jim cast his eyes over to where Mike stood with a shorter, smaller boy in hand-me-downs. The new kid looked harmless enough, but Jim was always just a little bit more protective when things involved El—for good reason. The memories of the night that damn Lab had tried to take her back still lingered deep in his mind.

“What’s all this?” Jim asked, gesturing vaguely toward the boys.

“Dad,” El put on her best smile, drawing the word out in a deliberate manner. “This is Will. He’s—” she struggled for a moment to recall the correct word, “Stranded. And he’s _like_  us.” This last bit of information she delivered pointedly, arching her eyebrows at him.

Jim considered her words silently for a moment, his heart softening but his expression staying hard. “And just how did you figure that out?” The question was stern, but El could sense a grin tugging at the corner of Jim’s lips and she made a face at him.

“He can become invisible,” Mike piped up, confidence sparked. He stepped forward, urging this unfamiliar boy—Will—to do the same. Jim noticed the fresh burns on his knuckles and shot a quick glare at El who purposefully avoided his eyes. Shaking his head, Jim returned to surveying the boys as they approached, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“You alright, kid?”

Will remained silent until Mike gently nudged him in the shoulder. Looking up shyly, he peeled his eyes off the ground and nodded quickly before his shoulders slumped. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “Sort of. I just need to call my mom. She’s going to be worried and if she thinks my dad didn’t bring me home th—”

“Okay, okay,” Jim silenced him with a short wave of his hand, tossing away his cigarette. “Your mom know about your gift?”

Will hesitated for a moment, lips drawn together, before he nodded again.  Jim began to weigh his options but his thoughts were abruptly cut short by the sound of police sirens in the distance. His attention snapped back to his adopted daughter just in time to see her exchange a quick glance with Mike, somewhere between anxious and amused. Mike deftly stepped over to her side, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing it.

“That have anything to do with you kids?” Jim grunted.

“No way, Chief,” Mike shook his head emphatically, feigning innocence. Jim couldn’t help but to think the boy could use a few lessons from El on how to act convincingly. “But we should probably take off just in case.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jim turned on his heel and took the few steps back to the truck. “Alright let’s get out of here,” he called out. Will hung back for a moment until Jim looked at him directly. “ _All_  of you.”

* * *

Will’s mother showed up in a flurry of dark hair and nervous energy forty minutes after he made a timid phone call from Jim’s office, recounting the details of his evening with frustrated tears in his eyes.

It was Jim who met her out on the porch, dimly lit against the late night darkness, the snow finally stopped. As a rule, strangers weren’t allowed inside; though it was a rule that had been bent several times. El had been the first exception, and now there was Will, sitting in the kitchen with El and the others, sipping hot chocolate.

The woman standing in front of him was petite, at least a foot shorter than him. She looked anxious, but fierce, electricity behind her eyes, despite the turned down corners of her lips.

“Thanks for taking care of my boy,” she said, evidently in a hurry, chewing nervously on her bottom lip while she waiting for him to speak. Jim nodded nonchalantly, noticing the way her hands were shaking, even inside the gloves she wore.

“Will’s with the other kids who are here,” Jim told her gently, “Mike and El — and Dustin’s over for the night.”

She looked at him blankly, as if asking why he was telling her this.

“Thought you could use a smoke,” Jim chuckled by way of explanation, quickly sliding a pack from his pocket. A look of relief swept over her sharp features and she nearly laughed.

“I’m Jim,” he introduced himself, offering her the pack. She pulled out a cigarette and poked it between her lips, grateful.

“Joyce,” she returned his introduction, her voice slightly muffled.

“Pleased to meet you Joyce,” he said, reaching out to light her cigarette for her. “You’ve got a good kid.”

“Two,” Joyce corrected, “There’s two of them. They’re both good kids.” Her hands significantly steadier, Joyce took a long drag of the cigarette, sputtering almost immediately after she inhaled.

“Oh god,” she coughed, “These are disgusting.” Her face wrinkled up in revulsion, she held out the cigarette to him but Jim shook his head.  

“Reached my quota for the day already,” he grinned down at Joyce as she shrugged and tossed the cigarette away, letting a pause linger between them, struck by the intensity of her eyes. “Let’s talk about the future,” he suggested, dragging his gaze away from her face. “Will could learn a lot here.”

“I think I teach him pretty well,” Joyce replied, a hint of defiance lacing her words.

“You’ve got ‘em too?” Jim glanced at her again, suddenly inquisitive.

Joyce surveyed him for a moment, her expression guarded. Then, with a flick of her wrist and a whispered word under her breath, purple sparks appeared in the air between them. Jim reached out to touch one, his hand recoiling at the small sting he felt in his finger.

“Impressive,” he nodded.

“They help,” Joyce sighed, waving her hand and watching the sparks dissipate. She turned away briefly, leaning against the railing, looking out over the lawn. “The powers,” she continued, “They helped with the boys. I can feel what they’re feeling, you know. Empathy or whatever. I know when they need to talk. I have forever. It helps raising them on my own.”

“I can relate to that,” Jim laughed, moving next to her. He was careful to avoid leaning too hard on the railing—he’d learned his lesson the previous summer. “It takes super strength to keep up with these kids.”

“Or magic,” Joyce smirked.

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on her best friend’s bed, Max held her arms extended out in front of her, palms open toward the ceiling. Over each hand, a small dark cloud floated, one releasing plump, oblong raindrops, the other soft white snowflakes that evaporated the moment they hit the bedsheets, leaving no trace of their existence.

“You’re getting better,” El said encouragingly over Max’s shoulder, her hands busy at work braiding her friend’s long red hair.  Max allowed herself a small smile—she had always been self-conscious about her powers, particularly how much difficulty she had controlling them. Her emotions often got in the way, like the time she had gotten so scared of her stepbrother a small twister ripped through their house. Or how it always got windy, outside  _and_  inside, when she kissed Lucas.

“Thanks,” Max sighed, closing her palms, her miniature weather systems disappearing, “I’m so glad I ended up here.”

“Me too,” El agreed, finishing the braid with a quick twist of her wrist, securing it with the green hair band she kept there. “Are you excited to not be the new kid anymore?”

Max smirked. “Yeah! And Will sounds awesome. Invisibility,” Max sighed, flopping onto her back, her head hitting one of the many pink pillows El kept on her bed. “That would have made living with Billy a lot easier.”

El frowned, running her hand over Max’s arm in comfort before getting up from the bed.  “He seems really nice,” El changed the subject, knowing how much Max hated talking about her family. Instead, she pushed herself up from the bed and moved to the window. “But they’re supposed to be here already.”

“I’m sure they’re coming,” Max assured her friend, flopping onto her back and pulling a comic book from the bedside table. “Is this the new issue of X-Men?”

El shrugged. “Mike left it in here this morning,” she said, “He came bulking in to show me a panel of Jean Grey that reminded him of me.” Her cheeks turned visibly red at the memory and Max chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“You two have got it so bad,” she laughed. Then, gently she added, “And it’s  _bursting_  in.”

“Right,” El sighed, “ _Bursting_  in.” She was thankful for Max’s tact. Even though it had been years since she’d been talking like a normal kid, she still sometimes messed things up but her friends were always there to help her get things right again.

El returned to staring out the window, listening as Max flipped through the pages of the comic book. No more than a few moments later an old, battered car pulled up outside the gate and El practically leapt into the air.   
  


“They’re here!” El exclaimed, “Radio the boys!”

“On it,” Max announced, pulling out the walkie-talkie she knew El kept stashed under her pillow. It was the same place Max kept hers; the way the entire party communicated when they weren’t together.

And both Max and El knew that the boys already had one wrapped up in a box, ready for Will’s arrival.


	4. Confrontation

I.  
Six months. It had been six months since El’s arrival at the manor, smuggled in through the living room window and up the stairs, halfway to Mike’s bedroom before Steve, on his way back from a late night—and technically prohibited—visit to Nancy, ran into them.

Six months of training, of Jim working with her everyday not only to figure out the full extent of her enormous capabilities, but also to improve her reading, writing, and speaking. She was, in every way, opening up and growing, becoming more and more at home as the days melted away.

Six months of silence and peace that faded away in an instant on an unseasonably hot and brilliantly sunny Saturday afternoon. When they showed up outside the gate in big black trucks and with lots of guns, Jim’s heart sunk inside his chest.

He figured it would only be a matter of time before they came to take her back.

Jim licked his lips, letting his cigarette fall to the porch, ashes scattering in the barely-there breeze. Slowly, he brought his fists together, stretching out his arms and cracking his knuckles.

They’d be mighty disappointed to know that El wasn’t there. And, even if she was, Jim had no intention of letting them lay a single finger on her ever again.

* * *

II.  
El’s nose hovered less than an inch away from the glass of the ice-cream freezer as she stared down at the swirl of colours and flavours, her mouth watering as she contemplated her choices. Ice cream had been one of the first treats she’d ever tasted—sitting cross-legged at the large kitchen table in the manor while Hopper stood over the boys with a stern look, questioning them—and it was still one of her favourites.

“You can get whichever one you want,” Mike said from his spot by her side—a spot he frequently occupied. “You can even get two if you want.”

At that revelation, El lit up, her choice suddenly not so daunting. “What will you get?” El asked, glancing up at Mike with interest. He considered for a moment, even though they both knew what his answer would be.

“Chocolate, probably.”

El fixed him with a sardonic look, her smile crooked as she shook her head. Mike  _always_  had chocolate ice cream. “That’s—” she paused, searching her memory for the correct word, “Bored.”

“Hey!” Mike chuckled, his lips turning up into an amused grin, “You mean boring. And it’s not! Chocolate is such a good flavour. It’s a—a classic!”

El rolled her eyes at his matter-of-fact tone, turning back to the flavours beneath the glass just as Steve squeezed between them.

“She’s right, Mike,” he chimed in, “Strawberry is where it’s at.” One hand reached out to rumple Mike’s already unruly hair, but the younger boy ducked out of the way just in time.

Without looking up from the ice creams, El shook her head again. “Strawberry is boring too.”

* * *

III.  
Cones in hand, El and Nancy led the way down the street, chatting quietly between themselves as they headed back to Steve’s car. Hopper had asked them to do a few errands that they had so far neglected in favour of ice cream and the brand new nailpolishes and eyeshadows that Nancy had tucked away in her purse.

It was Nancy who noticed them first as they rounded the corner to the parking lot, her grip on her cone tightening until it cracked underneath her fingertips, already chilled, her body temperature lowering as her nerves crested. Two black vans, one parked on either side of Steve’s car, men in suits leaning against them, guns at their waists. She stopped dead in her tracks, the other three abruptly pausing mid-step, confusion written across their faces.

Nancy wanted to usher them back around the corner, back to the moment before the men spotted them, one speaking into a walkie talkie while the others began to move forward, methodically, mercilessly.

“Steve, take El and run.”

For a moment, Steve gaped at her, reaching out for her arm. “Nance, I’m not lea—”

“Do it,” Nancy said firmly, clasping her hand over his. “I’ll be okay.”

“Where do you want me to t—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nancy interrupted, “Just go. As far away as fast as you can.”

It all happened so quickly that Mike could hardly process his panic. One moment he was holding El’s hand, pulling her close to him, turning toward her to let her know that everything would be okay. And the next she was gone, whisked away over Steve’s shoulder in a streak of light.

“Mike,” Nancy’s voice sounded through the white noise in his ears, her hand wrapping around his wrist, steam hissing where her cool fingers made contact with his already heated skin. “Are you ready?”

Mike planted his feet firmly on the ground and swallowed the fear climbing up in his chest, replacing it with the anger that swelled and bubbled in his stomach. It was an unfiltered anger he felt towards these men who he’d only ever heard stories about when he and El stayed up late into the night and ate cookies. They were evil and there was no way they were getting El back.

“Ready,” Mike said, voice low, crossing his arms over his chest just as they went up in flames.

Mike sent a tendril of fire flying at the two men closest to them, the flames snaking around the guns they held, warping the metal before it fell to the ground from burnt and useless hands.

Still those who were unhurt pressed forward, readying their weapons in spite of the barrage of sharp icicles Nancy whirled in their direction.

Glancing over at her little brother-just as he sent a ball of fire flying into one goon’s stomach, Nancy changed tactics, instead sending up a wall of ice in front of them, bullets ricocheting off the surface, some starting to crack at it.

But she wasn’t quite quick enough. A bullet grazed Nancy’s shoulder and Mike whipped around, calling out her name.

“I’m okay!” Unbridled rage flew across her face as her hands balled into fists, glowing white with power that Mike had never seen before.

Though he was focused on the men closing in on them, out of the corner of his eye, Mike noticed the fire hydrant by this side begin to vibrate.

He leapt out of the way just in time as the hydrant exploded, yellow debris flying into the air amidst a thick sheet of ice that knocked their attackers down. And kept them there.

“Holy shit,” Mike whispered, his hands extinguished, the sleeves of his shirt in tatters. “How’d you do that?”

Nancy looked just as stunned as he did. “I don’t know.” She had never been able to turn water to ice before. But it didn’t matter. Not right now. Recovered from her shock, Nancy walked over to one of the unconscious bodies, her face an unreadable mask.

“Nance,” Mike urged her, “Come on. We have to go. We have to find El.”

She didn’t respond, have no indication that she heard him at all. Instead, Nancy bent low and picked up one of the discarded guns, one of the few that still looked recognizable.

For a long moment she aimed it at the body by her feet and Mike chewed his lip, knowing she was contemplating killing him, wondering if he should stop her.

He kept silent and waited. Nancy’s eyes narrowed and she tucked the gun into the waist of her jeans, unfired, before picking up her discarded purse.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

IV.  
If Steve had been clocking himself, as he usually did, he’d have realized that he reached the manor in under eight seconds, an impressive shattering of his previous record.

Stopping in the distance, worry etched into his features, Steve placed El down beside him, shoulders slumping when he turned to see the sleek black trucks. He could hear gunfire from inside the walls and resisted the urge to run forward, reckless and desperate.

Instead, he remembered Nancy’s wishes. Keep El safe. Get her far away. He could do that. Steve reached out to scoop El back into his arms but she darted out of the way.

“No,” El whispered softly, her hands shaking, “Steve. I can help.”

“Not going to happen, kid,” Steve said with uncertainty, biting his lower lip, wracking his brain for a plan. “Mike would literally burn me alive if I let something happen to you.”

El glared at him, desperate to scream at him that if they didn’t act there would be nothing left—no home, no friends, no one to be angry at them for at least trying to help. But she didn’t have the words for that, not under duress. So she opted for something simpler, her voice biting.

“I’m strong,” El said. “And friends help other friends.”

Steve surveyed her for a long moment. There was something in her eyes, in the way that she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, that told him if he tried to stop her she’d telekinetically toss his ass across the country.  

Nervous, Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, shit,” he relented, “Shit, shit shit.” Gathering himself, he drew in a deep breath. “What can I do to help?”

“Distraction,” El replied curtly, remembering the word from long hours spent training in the basement with Hopper.

For a moment, Steve’s lips curled up at the corners. “I can do that. Be right back.”

* * *

V.  
That night, the house was a flurry of activity. Even though most of the kids had gone home, those that stayed couldn’t find sleep. El sat, curled up in front of the fire in the living room, her eyelids still heavy as she stared into the flames, memories of earlier in the day playing on a loop in her head.

_Steve’s distraction was—loud, to say the least, but it gave El the time she needed to march down to the manor, her steps sure and steady, despite the fear that made her lips tremble and her eyes fill with tears._

_If he was there—Papa—no, she couldn’t think about that. She pushed his face, soft with manipulative kindness to the back of her mind as she slipped through the front door, her sneakers sending up a cloud of destroyed wood and brick._

_She followed the sounds of fighting, the loud crashes and shouting voices, her fingers twitching, hands ready to be raised in defence. Quietly, she came into the study, where the kids worked on their school assignments, her heart thudding in her chest when she saw her friends crowded into a corner, bruised and bleeding. Hopper was with them, an obvious wound on his shoulder where his shirt was stained crimson, anger on his face._

_If he noticed her come up behind the suited men, he gave no indication. It was only when the men went completely still, guns falling to the floor, that her friends began to look in her direction, their eyes brimming with awe and gratitude. She hoped they kept looking at her, not wanting them to see the monster that she was, not wanting them to see the blood spilling from the eyes and noses and ears of the people who tried to hurt them._

“Hey El.”

A soft voice greeted her, pulling her from her dark thoughts. El turned to see Mike standing in the doorway, bandages around his hands and arms, a large and angry-looking bruise under his left eye. Her lips tightened, eyes stinging with tears.

“Mike,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.” El drew her knees up to her chest, making herself small. Frowning, Mike walked over to her, trying his best not to limp on his sprained ankle, setting himself down next to her.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked lightly, his bandaged hand coming to carefully rest on her knee. “You saved us all today.”

“You got hurt,” El choked out, reaching out, fingers lightly brushing over his bruised face. “And your hands.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” Mike said firmly, “All that matters is that you’re safe and okay—are you okay?”

El looked at him for a long moment, eyes downcast. She had passed out immediately after killing the bad men and wasn’t sure if Mike knew just what happened that afternoon.

As if reading her mind, Mike leaned in closer to her, pressing his forehead to hers, “You did what you needed to do,” he said softly, trying to reassure her.

El nodded mutely, wishing she could explain that it was so much greyer than that. That it was not the first time she had killed and she knew it would not be the last and how could he possibly understand what it felt like? The guilt of taking away someone’s life mingled with the sick relief that they were no longer trying to take yours.

El didn’t resent him for not understanding. No, Mike was so good and so kind that she hoped he’d never have to understand.

“Whenever you’re ready to talk about it,” Mike continued quietly, “I’ll be here to listen.”

“Thank you.”

Without another word, El nestled in closer to him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, comforted by the perpetual warmth of his skin. She knew that things weren’t over—that one day Papa would come looking for her himself.

The thought would keep her up all night, eating away at her in silence. But Mike, though he was weary, would be up by her side, telling her stories about the normal side of his life that she wanted to one day experience herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words about the previous chapters—I promise to respond to them individually as soon as possible. I hope you like this one! Posting it on my way out the door to see The Last Jedi. Bye!


	5. Love and Great Buildings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thanks again! I know I say this literally every time I update, but your support and your comments mean the world to me. Thank you—always.

It was a quiet, rhythmic tapping outside his window that drew Mike Wheeler reluctantly away from his Dungeons and Dragons notebook, his nose having been pressed to the lined pages as he scribbled away for the last two hours. Looking up, through the glass, Mike recognized a familiar face peering in at him, his heart skipping a beat at the way the twinkling stars reflected off her bright eyes. Mike peeled away from his desk and hurried to push open the window, allowing El to slip inside, her worn sneakers landing noiselessly on his carpet. **  
**

“What are you doing here?” Mike hissed, careful to keep his voice low in case his mom was still awake.

El grinned, her eyes shining with mischief. “I missed you,” she breathed, looking at him with that familiar fullness in her eyes. It was a look that never failed to make Mike’s knees weak, his heart stirring in his chest. He had to admit, even though he’d seen El just yesterday before heading home for the weekend, he had missed her too. Smiling, Mike wrapped his arms around her, his fingers gently slipping under her chin and his lips catching hers in a long kiss.

“You’re going to get us in shit,” Mike sighed against El’s lips as she pulled back, drawing in a deep breath.

“No,” El insisted, “And if I do, it’ll be worth it.” In a fluid movement, she pressed herself back onto her tiptoes and kissed his heated cheek before she slipped away from him, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, tracing the plaid pattern of his sheets with her fingers.

“How’d you even get up here?” Mike asked, peeking out the window to the ground several feet below before he gently closed it, turning back to his girlfriend.

El raised her eyebrows at him, her grin crooked. “I have superpowers, Mike.”

“Ha-Ha,” Mike deadpanned, crossing his arms, “I meant how did you get to Hawkins?”

“Steve let me borrow his car.”

Mike’s eyes grew wide and he fell back against the window, his weight resting on the sill. “Steve let you borrow Rosie? How?”

El shrugged, wiggling her eyebrows and ignoring the question. Instead, she stood and moved over to his desk, running her fingers along the abandoned D&D notebook. The top-left corner was charred, a good portion burnt away several months ago.

“I remember when you did this,” El mused aloud, turning to look at Mike with amusement lighting up her face. He felt his cheeks grow red, remembering how adamantly he had insisted on keeping the burnt notebook.  _There’s so many hours of history on these pages! And I’m not rewriting it all!_

“I got excited,” Mike muttered, following her movements around the room with eyes he could never, in a million years, drag away from her. “Are you sure you don’t want to be part of this campaign?”

“I like to listen.” El stepped over to his dresser, her eyes scanning over the photographs that rested there, from his seventh-grade science fair to the picture snapped two weeks earlier when they had gone to the lake with their friends.

She’d seen all these photos before, memorized every detail of Mike’s bedroom—of the Wheeler house in its entirety. It was a home, unlike any she had ever known. And even though Mike’s dad wasn’t around, there was something so complete about the house. It was a completeness that extended to Mike’s entire life. Sure, she knew that things weren’t perfect for him, but he had had a childhood, trips to Disneyland, years in a normal school before his powers revealed themselves, bike riding up and down the asphalt—things she had never experienced, things she remembered only through Mike, a misplaced and incomplete nostalgia sitting like a lump in her stomach.

“So, uh, do you want to read something?” Mike’s voice broke through her thoughts of past lives she never had. “I could go get us a snack too.”

“No,” El shook her head, clearing her mind.  “I want to go to the city.”

* * *

El wasn’t a bad driver, Mike knew that, but sometimes she went just a little too fast for his taste, leaving him grasping at the door handle with white knuckles. He knew, because she had told him, that driving made her feel free; gave her moments of control that had been denied to her for so long and so he never objected when she wanted to sit behind the wheel.  

Chicago was two hours away and, after stopping for milkshakes, El pulled over in front of a tall concrete building, its top hidden in the thick grey clouds that hovered over the city. Mike stepped out of the car, staring upwards at the imposing structure.

“Let’s go to the top,” El grinned, coming up beside him, her voice like soft music in his ear. Mike’s eyes widened; something telling him she didn’t quite mean breaking in and taking the elevator. “You can trust me,” she assured him.

Mike nearly laughed at the sentiment. “I know,” he said, “I’d trust you with my life. But—it’s so tall.”

“So are you,” El countered, making Mike roll his eyes and teasingly poke her in the ribs—El wasn’t ticklish, but it was something he still loved doing. She swatted at his hand and raised her eyebrows, awaiting his decision.

“Okay,” Mike licked his lips to steady his nerves. “To the top.”

Smiling with delight, El wrapped her arm through his and lowered her eyes, focusing. In a moment, Mike felt his feet leave the ground, the air growing cooler as they rose, slow and steady through the darkness. Out of instinct, he closed his eyes. He’d never been very good with heights and even though he knew El wouldn’t let anything happen to him, he couldn’t help the pounding in his chest and the clamminess on his palms. Once his feet hit solid ground again, touching down on the concrete roof, Mike allowed his eyes to snap open, catching sight of El rubbing underneath her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie—which he suddenly recognized as one he thought he’d misplaced months ago. Not that he minded; it looked better on her anyway.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, pulling at the tissues he kept in the back pocket of his jeans. He moved to hand it to El, but she shook her head.

“I’m good,” she reassured him with a smile, “Just a little dizzy.”

Mike pursed his lips, watching her carefully until she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m fine,” El repeated, “I promise.”

With that, she turned slowly and moved toward the edge of the roof, peering down into the tops of the clouds. Tentatively, Mike joined her, his fear slowly melting away to admiration of the foggy atmosphere around them.

“We’re so high up,” El sighed, breathing in deep. “It’s cold up here.”

“Come here,” Mike moved behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. El allowed herself to sink into his naturally unnatural warmth, so full and comforting; a constant in her life—the first constant she had ever had.

“I wish Max was here,” El smirked, “She’d be able to clear up some of those clouds.”

Mike made a thoughtful noise in his throat and then chuckled. “Max would talk shit if I did this, though.”

El turned to face him, her brow furrowed. “Did wh—“

He cut her off with a kiss, startling her at first though she pressed closer into him after a moment, her eyes fluttering closed, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek, tracing the freckles she’d long since memorized.

It was only when her lungs burned for air that El pulled back, a smile playing on her lips.  

“This was a good idea,” Mike admitted, “Even if the Chief is going to wring my neck.”

El laughed, patting Mike’s chest and pulling him into a seated position, their legs stretched out over the concrete, but warm in their tangledness.

“Tell me a story?” El asked, resting her head against Mike’s shoulder. He told the best stories, sometimes about his past and sometimes about the imaginative world laying dormant in his mind. El loved both kinds, just as much as she loved the sound of his voice.

“When I was a kid, my family used to go up to this cottage every summer,” Mike began, “There were fireflies that would come out every summer night.”

“Fireflies?” El interrupted, unsure what he was referring to.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, “Kind of like a normal fly. But they’re not always buzzing around the garbage. And they glow this soft yellow colour.”

“Sounds pretty,” El sighed. Mike looked contemplative, chewing his bottom lip.

“Here, let me show you.”

He drew away slightly and opened his palms, a dozen small orbs of flame dancing there, rising up and flying around El’s head. The look of awe on her face made Mike’s heart ripple in his chest, thrilled.

“I know they’re not real, but—“

“They’re beautiful,” El gasped, reaching for his hand as the tiny orbs fizzled out with low popping noises. The quick, unexpected contact made Mike wince, El’s fingers rubbing against an old blister from yesterday afternoon’s training. He couldn’t hold back the frustrated huff that passed his lips.

El jerked her hand away immediately. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s not that,” Mike insisted, trying to assuage her worry, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s— well, it’s stupid.”

“Mike,” El frowned, looking up at him with earnest eyes, “You can talk to me.”

Hesitating a moment, Mike pursed his lips. “El, do you ever wonder what it would be like to be normal?”

El tilted her head to the side, thoughtful. “Why?” Mike almost laughed—she was so good at evading questions, often turning them back on the person who had asked. It was one of the many special things about her that he wanted to keep close forever. But there was no laughter on his downturned lips, his thoughts dark.

“It’s just…I can’t even properly hold your hand and it’s so…it just sucks. These powers suck.”

“Mike,” El began softly, leaning in to him, “That doesn’t matter. Your powers keep me safe. They keep me warm.” She paused and linked their arms, settling onto her knees so that she was eye-level with him. Carefully she pressed her forehead against his. “I like that your skin is warm,” she continued, “It’s like your heart.”

Mike smiled at this and quickly kissed the tip of her nose.  “I love you, El.”

The smile that lit up her face as she replied, returning his love, reminded Mike that normal didn’t really matter. It was all relative. And El—well, she was  _his_ normal.


End file.
